To Breathe Again
by Monroe Vs Mansfield
Summary: This was the tool that was going to get her out of this godforsaken situation...one way or another. Lana Winters. !Possible Spoilers! Warnings! Mentions of abortion and rape.


Warning! Possible Spoilers! I had to write this once I saw that 2x09 was called 'The Coat Hanger' and after Thredson raped Lana it seemed to write itself. You can thank my awesome organization skills that I'm only just posting this now after being written about two weeks ago and just chilling on my laptop all forgotten – my bad!;)

**To Breath Again**

Just the mere thought of it made her sick to her stomach; knowing that there was a small part of him inside of her, his evil seed planting its devilish roots firmly into the walls of her womb. She needed to rid herself of the vile parasite, which was making itself at home inside of her, and she needed to do it now – stop it dead in its track before it was too late.

She tried in vain to hold down the vomit curdling in her stomach, burning her oesophagus as it crept up her throat, threatening to bust out and coat the floor. She couldn't think straight - about _anything_. She couldn't think about anything other than ridding herself of the parasitic reminder of the monster who'd kidnapped her, kept her locked up in his torture chamber, mentally and physically abusing her.

She was physically nauseated to think that her torture and suffering at his hands had left her carrying his hideous spawn. While she'd been chained to that bed she'd contemplated death, figuring that it _must_ have been a better option, in fact she'd _begged_ for it. As he lay his repulsive sweat soaked body over her own limp one, and pounded into her repeatedly and relentlessly, she couldn't think about anything other than being put out of her misery - indefinitely. But now that she was carrying the product of that hideous act she _knew_ death was the better option - it had to be.

There was a time, not so long ago, when she'd been terrified of death...but that was before she'd had the misfortune of landing herself at Briarcliff and falling victim to the evil that was Dr. Oliver Thredson. It was ironic that the one thing she'd been afraid of before all this was now the very same thing she wished for, death. She'd rather face her own demise than give that monster a child. She just wanted the damn thing gone; if that meant she had to die in the process then she would happily welcome it. She wasn't actively seeking her own demise, if she were though, it could easily be achived. No - she was a fighter and she wasn't about to take the easy way out; although she had to admit that option felt very appealing in that very moment. If it was her time, then it was her time, she'd die knowing she'd did the right thing – but she'd go out fighting all the same.

She reached out, with long trembling fingers, and grasped the cool metal coat hanger from Sister Jude's wardrobe. She had to quick, because she was forbidden from being anywhere near the nuns' quarters, all of the inmates were, but felt oddly calm as she seemed to take her time as if time was irrelevant. She examined the wire structure with curious fascination, running her fingers along its longest side, taking in the feel of the cool metal between her now much steadier fingers; imagining the huge relief the tool could grant her. She knew the risks. She wasn't under the illusion that it would be a miracle cure - she knew that it could very possibly kill her...but she had no choice, she couldn't risk bringing that thin into the world, so in her books it was a gamble worth taking. She'd rather face her own demise than hazard the possibility of carrying that monsters seed to term - she'd rather die than have to face birthing such an abomination.

She should feel guilt; shouldn't she? This _thing _- she refused to even acknowledge it as a baby - was a part of her too. But she had nothing but complete and utter contempt for it. She couldn't understand how any woman who'd suffered a fate similar to hers could ever carry a pregnancy to term given the circumstances of conception. She felt nothing but distain and dread for the _thing_ growing inside of her.

She was in now doubt that if Oliver Thredson ever discovered she'd killed his progeny he'd kill her without a moments hesitation; he'd been more than willing and ready to do it on numerous occasions before. To him she'd be repeating history because in his eyes he'd be just as bad as his own mother, if not worse. But she'd happily welcome her own death at Thredson hands; as long as she didn't have to give birth to, and then possibly raise, the monsters spawn . The mere though that she may be forced to birth and raise the child of a killer was enough to make her inside freeze as her blood ran cold. Her whole body revolted by the consideration.

She'd fought back when he'd tried to end her life, and her endless suffering, but in hind side she wished she hadn't. She wished she let him slit her throat, or strangle her, which ever means he chose. She wished she hadn't escaped because if she'd died back there she'd have never known she carried the spawn of a serial killer.

She violently tugged the wire coat hanger to her chest, keeping it clutched firmly there as she clamped her eyes shut and forced herself to draw a deep breathe in, this was her only hope. Hearing the heavy footsteps and distinctive clash and jingle of keys heading down the corridor in her direction she sprung swiftly into action. In a matter of seconds she'd managed to slip the wire hanger behind her and slipped it under her dress, letting one of the corners settle into her underwear against her buttocks, so that it was hidden from sight and wouldn't slip out on the way back to her room. Not a moment to soon Frank appeared in the doorway of the office and cast a suspicious expression her way.

He calmly informed her she wasn't permitted to be in this part of the manor, offering her a soft smile as he assured her this could stay between the two of them as long as she went back to her room. She just nodded, not trusting her voice, fearing the tone of her voice would raise suspision. Forcing a small ghost of a smile to her lips, dead of emotion, she followed him out of the room the both of them making the sort journey to her room in eerie yet comfortable scilence. She couldn't let herself feel of think anything, because as soon as she did she'd loose it, she needed to have her shit together enough to do what needed to be done. She needed to be calm and collected she couldn't risk her nerves getting the better of her.

As soon as she heard the heavy clank of the bulky metal door close behind her, she back into the far corner and waited a few brief moment to be sure Frank was not going to come back before she reached behind her and extracted the wire coat hanger. She looked on with fascination and the dull silver coloured metal soaked up and bounced back the tiny portion of light the small window in the door of her room allowed her, she took in the beauty of the shiny object - but not for its aesthetics, but because she knew that this was the tool that was going to get her out of this godforsaken situation...one way or another.


End file.
